


Not So Sweet Victory

by shinyhappyfitsofrage



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Humor, Poor Wally, Romance, Sad, Wally is an idiot, sorry - Freeform, that kind of romance where they talk about the girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 05:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5954992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinyhappyfitsofrage/pseuds/shinyhappyfitsofrage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the fifth time Dick glances over at Wally, he is positive something is wrong. </p>
<p>requested by anonymous for #8: wanna bet?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Sweet Victory

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this long ago & its bad but i have to put it up here so here you go

By the fifth time Dick glances over at Wally, he is positive something is wrong. Eyebrows furrowed, arms crossed, Wally stares with a blatant level of distaste at the back of M’gann, Kaldur, and Artemis’s heads. His leg is moving back and forth manically, vibrating against the counter. “Dude,” he says eventually. “ Hate to break it to you, but you kind of look like a serial killer right now.”

Wally doesn’t break his focus. “I don’t like her,” he says lowly, like this is some dark, closely-guarded secret that could potentially compromise an entire branch of government. He glances at Dick furtively, waiting for a reaction. 

He rolls his eyes and gasps with a level of theatricality that would’ve impressed Robin Williams. “Whaaaat? I had no idea?” Normally, Wally would’ve huffed in annoyance - he has no patience for sarcasm - but today he only shakes his head infinitismally. 

“I’m serious,” says Wally. He suddenly pushes himself away from the counter with his dust-beaten sneakers. Pacing determinedly, in the sort of way really British detectives pace, he stops suddenly and throws his arms out. “Dude - she’s _evil_. I do not trust her at all. I think she is inherently evil and is unclassy and is probably most likely a closet fan of, like, Twilight. I bet she’s Team Jacob. We cannot have a member of Team Jacob on this team. I will absolutely not allow it.”

Behind Wally, Dick catches sight of movement; Artemis, previously absorbed in _The Truman Show_ , turns to look over her shoulder. He watches as she frowns, just slightly, at the tense, angry set of Wally’s shoulders, letting out a tiny frustrated sigh. For a second, Dick is caught by a sort of half-guilty pang. It’s the feeling of smacking a friend playfully and actually causing them real pain, and he shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flickering back to Wally, who is apparently too caught up in his bitter hypotheticals to have noticed the scene playing behind him.

Partially to Wally, and partially to Artemis (whom Dick is certain is still half-listening), he says, “You’re probably most likely wrong. I bet she’s, like, totally cool. I bet she has one of those skateboards with like eighteen wheels. And I bet she has a cat named after, like, Harry Potter or something else cool. And also I bet you are totally in love with her and are in serious denial.”

The freckles on Wally’s face start to look less conspicious as his face turns read. “I am _not_ -” He jumps a little at the sudden increase of volume in his own voice. Lowering his face, he hisses, “Well, I think you’re wrong, on so many levels.”

“Wanna bet?” challenges Dick. He leans against the counter and smirks at Wally.

He nods fervently. “Yes, I do. I will literally do all of your chores for like the next three hundred years if she turns out to be remotely unevil.” He extends a hand. 

Dick shrugs. “I mean, I don’t have chores. Because of, you know, the whole _super rich_  thing. But okay. We can get creative.” He grasps his outstreched hand and shakes it firmly (one of his greatest strengths is strong business-like handshakes). “See you in chore hell. And by see you, I mean I’ll be observing. Eating popcorn. Laughing at your stupidity, you dingus.”

Wally just scoffs, shaking his head. “Whatever, man. It’s not going to happen.”

* * *

Dick almost doesn’t hear the sharp yet still halted knocking on his apartment door. It’s such a small, pathetic sound that really cannot compete with the shouting from his television playing _Jurassic Park_ and the rolling thunder from outside. For a few moments, he assumes its nothing more than something his mind dreamed up, a twitch of his brain and nothing more.

When it becomes more insistent, however, he is forced to concede. Pausing the movie, he lurches to his feet and to the door, wincing at the pain in his muscles. Throwing the door open, he blinks at the sight before him; Wally, but a sullied and exhausted Wally, stands before him with red hair dripping onto his nose and a wrinkled sweatshirt and one untied sneaker. Dick pauses, because the last time Wally saw him he tried to punch him in the face on a midnight rooftop and only failed do to the shaking of his bones. “Hi,” he says slowly.“

“I lost,” says Wally. He sounds so goddamn weary. “I lost. I’m here to your dishes. Or vacuum. Or something. There has to be _something_.”

Dick almost doesn’t remember what he’s talking about, because he’s too busy thinking about the set of Artemis’s jawline when she said yes too quickly and the set of Wally’s when he realized she chose the world over him, and he’s wrapped up in the shuddered sobs that shook M'gann’s shoulders and the indent of Connor’s fist in the wall, and all he can think about is about how much he’s lost as well.

Finally, he nods, as a conversation five years old comes to mind. He has a different costume now and they’re both taller, but other than that not much has changed (except for everything, of course). “We’ll do the dishes,” he says, and he ushers Wally out of the rain. 


End file.
